


Bitter, Twisted Lies

by Tamari



Category: PIERCE Tamora - Works, Protector of the Small - Tamora Pierce, Song of the Lioness - Tamora Pierce, Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Angst, Bitterness, Decathlon, F/M, Fluff, Forum: Goldenlake, Multi, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-03
Updated: 2012-06-03
Packaged: 2017-11-17 15:29:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 4,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/553095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tamari/pseuds/Tamari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marek and Eiralys, because love doesn't always make sense, but it often hurts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lowered Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Event: 100 word dash  
> Words: 100  
> Author's Notes: Titles for series and fics taken from Maya Angelou's I Rise.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being nothing is her specialty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Event: 100 word dash  
> Words: 100  
> Author's Notes: Titles for series and fics taken from Maya Angelou's I Rise.  
> Rating: PG

Everybody knows who she is - but by elimination.

Eiralys is not Margarry, not Sunarine, not Cathrea. She is not shy, not spirited, not nice. She is always a not (she is nothing).

On Beltane, the Cavall sisters go to the city for supper. Eiralys stands a little apart as the three giggle and talk and flirt with the common boys.

A man approaches her, middle-aged but roughly handsome. Unperturbed by her glare, he offers his hand.

"I'm Marek." He grins easily.

"Eiralys."

"Charmed," he says. "You're not like your sisters."

Her scowl deepens before he continues. "You're real."

She smiles.


	2. History's Shame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eiralys can't do anything right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Event: 4x100 Relay (What if?)  
> Words: 400  
> Rating: T for references to alcohol and domestic abuse.

I.

"Eiralys!" Margarry says, grabbing her approaching sister. "This is Lord Marek of Rocky Gorge. Marek, this is my sister."

"Nice to meet you," the former commoner says. He must not notice or care about the badly hidden disgust in Eiralys' face, because he smiles widely.

"I'll just leave you two." Margarry hurries away before Eiralys can protest. She glowers at Marek, who just looks amused.

"How were you en _noble_ d?" she says with a cruel emphasis.

"Did a service for King Jonathan."

"Must be nice to be respected," she says, half-sarcastically.

"I thought so too, once." He bows. "Care to dance?"

II.

There is a tiny cemetery on the palace grounds, far off the elaborate well-traveled paths. Eiralys has kept it to herself since she discovered it- it's hers.

King Jonathan personally buried the people who fought for him. But for Eiralys, it's not really about the graves- more about why a crazy sorcerer was followed to regicide and beyond.

Eiralys is not a follower.

She traces a headstone. It's strange, the kind of people who fought for the king; there must be a story, but she doesn't know it.

Standing, she touches the name again.

_Marek Swiftknife, King of the Thieves._

III.

Drinking is not the answer. She knows it.

But pain isn't pain when she's numb, and she doesn't want to feel. She wants to stop crying when something reminds her of her father (gone, gone, gone) – wants to stop pulling at her skin like the ache can be scratched away. Nothing can take this away but death; alcohol is the next best thing.

Marek is the answer. She ignores it.

Marek is stoic, a fighter. Marek is her father, and she doesn't want him to be (but she does and he's _not_ Wyldon, never will be).

She takes a swig.

IV.

Eiralys scrubs at the floor of the tavern, yells from months and years ago still ringing in her ears.

Useless – whore – liar – disowned.

If Marek hadn't found her, delirious with fever on the streets, she'd be dead. She's alive now, even if she's long lost her youth and beauty.

She deserved it. She should have been a better wife, should've been obedient and sweet. But she's Eiralys and she's anything but, and trying could only do so much.

She feels a hand on her shoulder.

"It's not your fault," Marek says, just like he does every day.

She scrubs harder.


	3. Certainty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eiralys knew it was coming, but she still hadn't prepared herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Event: Single Sentence Shot Put   
> Words: 32  
> Rating: PG

When Marek and Eiralys are found out, she lies like a Stormwing, but the rumors spread to her father and they end as quickly as they began - and just as painfully.


	4. Haughtiness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eiralys knows Mindelan all too well - Eiralys/Marek, Marek/Kel, mention of Owen/Kel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Event: Tasty Triple Jump  
> Words: 392  
> Rating: PG

Mindelan.

Mindelan - the cause of all those arguments between her mother and father. Eiralys cannot forgive the girl who made screams and shouts echoing in the Cavall castle. Eiralys remembers people who hurt her or her family.

Eiralys does not forgive.

Mindelan - the name so often on her sister's fiancé's lips. Eiralys pities sweet Margarry, who could never doubt the faithfulness of anyone. Eiralys is not like Margarry. Eiralys knows what it means when a man talks about a woman like that, with lit-up eyes and a radiant smile.

Eiralys is wise in the ways of men and of women.

Mindelan - the person so envied by the scores of women (women who are Riders and Queen's Ladies and other ill-bred professions) who long to be so brave. Eiralys does not envy the second lady knight. Eiralys gave up her dreams long ago, as was her duty as the eldest.

Eiralys knows what true bravery is.

Mindelan - the woman sitting, talking, _smiling_ with Marek. Eiralys does not own Marek. Eiralys has less of a claim to him than Mindelan does, being married, but she does not care. Eiralys gets what she wants.

Eiralys is not afraid of anyone.

Mindelan - the recipient of a well-deserved slap. Eiralys tosses her hair and walks away, Mindelan's sharp intake of breath music to her ears. Eiralys is smug. Eiralys is a lady and cannot be challenged to a duel.

Eiralys spreads gossip, rumors, scandals, spreads fear, and Mindelan, knight or no, knows nothing of fear.

Mindelan - the reason Marek is screaming at her. Eiralys has proof now, for what man would yell at his lover about another woman unless there was something more than friendship? Eiralys does not argue with him at first.

Eiralys is right.

Mindelan, Mindelan, Mindelan. Eiralys is sick of this girl and she tells Marek just that.

"Why do you care so much?" Eiralys says. "She's just a little chit."

Eiralys is confident that her brutally true words will render Marek speechless and pull him onto her side. Eiralys is wrong.

"I don't need this," Marek says, throwing up his hands. "I don't need _you_."

Mindelan - the woman who broke Eiralys and Marek's love. Eiralys could kill Mindelan, so great is her anger. Eiralys does what she does best. Eiralys gives up. Eiralys goes home. Eiralys forgets, over time.

Eiralys never does forgive.


	5. The Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She can say she's realistic, but it's a lie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Event: 400 word dash  
> Words: 400  
> Rating: PG

Margarry has always been the dreamer.

Eiralys is realistic, all sharpness and grit and darkness. Marek is like that, too, but he has smoother edges, made of humor and ambition and hope. They know from the beginning that things will change - Eiralys will soften or Marek will harden - but it's a risk they're willing to take.

And they lie- oh, how they lie- to everyone, and they're kind of happy. She knows nothing lasts forever (but maybe this will), and when they're together, Eiralys thinks maybe she can dream a little more.

-:-

"Are you going to go with your sisters tomorrow?" he says one night in her rooms.

"Mmm," Eiralys says, before looking up. "Where?"

"To find your true love, for Midsummer. What, you don't listen to Margarry's _stimulating_ conversation?" Marek says, faking a shocked look.

She huffs. "No."

"No, because you already found your true love?" he teases. He nearly falls off the bed ducking her joking slap.

"No, because my sisters act ridiculously on days like that. You can go in my stead, if you want, and have some girl time," she says, barely stifling a giggle.

He snorts. "Only you, Eiralys."

-:-

They spend Midsummer Day together at the palace - playing chess and strolling through the gardens and practicing archery ("It's not ladylike," complains Eiralys, but she scowls when he beats her anyway).

It's no use trying to stay out of sight when the palace is so crowded. Marek pretends he's not worried about repercussions, and Eiralys pretends she's not ashamed of his common background, and they both pretend not to be pretending at all.

She collapses into her rooms at the end of the day (someone is going to break, and soon).

-:-

Marek is the one who breaks. He darkens just in time.

Wyldon finds out a month later, walking by them in a garden.

He stares. Marek and Eiralys sit on a bench as they wait for something, anything, to happen. Glancing at Marek's hard face, Eiralys sees the Rogue. She shifts.

Wyldon does not speak as he leaves.

Marek and Eiralys look at each other and pretend that they feel nothing, that Marek's not petrified and Eiralys isn't crushed (but it's a lie, it's a lie).

"I never should have dreamed," she says, turning away, "for perfection, for love, for acceptance, for anything at all."

She doesn't cry. She's not Margarry, and she's not weak.


	6. Sassiness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fortunately, Marek is very persuasive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Event: Lighthearted Long Jump  
> Words: 215  
> Rating: G

"Come on, sweetheart," Marek says, pushing her shoulder gently. "All the other couples are doing it."

"Oh, because we're such a traditional couple. It's so undignified - they look like commoners!"

"Eiralys," he says, holding out a piece of cheese and grinning at the face she makes, "they look like peasants because they are. Just try it."

She rolls her eyes but opens her mouth as he daintily places the cheese on her tongue. A bit of silence passes as she chews.

Marek crows and does a victory dance, much to the pub's amusement, when Eiralys finally lets her smile show.

"All right, it's not so bad," she admits.

After a few hours of talking and feeding each other local delicacies, Eiralys starts to fidget. Marek, recognizing the symptom, opens his mouth - but it's too late.

Marek blinks through the layer of icing crusting on his face.

Eiralys bursts into laughter.

He wipes a bit of cake off his nose and raises a sugary eyebrow at her, ignoring the gasps and giggles of the rest of the Dancing Dove. "Get bored?"

"Indeed," she says, her good humor restored, "But I'm better now." She swipes a long finger down his face and samples the cake. "Needs more vanilla."

He buries his face in his hands. "Oh, Eiralys."


	7. Black Ocean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everybody breaks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Event: 110 word reverse hurdle [read it backwards :D]  
> Words: 110  
> Rating: T for implied character death

Eiralys sinks low to the ground, her heels digging in the grass. She blinks and blinks - crying is for weak girls, crying is for her sisters - but she can't stop trembling and no, no, no.

But her rush fades into fear, stark and black, when the boy Marek always sends walks up. He says something and so does Cathrea but all she can see is the black of his mourning armband, inscribed with a very familiar symbol. She takes the letter he holds.

The news comes on the first day of summer. She's laughing, running about in the gardens with Cathrea, behaving completely unlike herself, and it's kind of _fun._


	8. Bowed Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thieving isn't as easy as it looked from high up in her castle, oh no.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Event: AU Hammer Throw  
> Words: 240  
> Rating: PG

She dashes through the streets – quicker, quicker, don't get caught – but the man catches up and she has to stop.

He holds out his hand and she, with a quick glance up at his impassive face, drops the purse into it – can she can get away before the guards arrive? Maybe, but the man has a sword – and backs away.

"Wait," he says sharply, and she freezes. "What's your name?"

She gives him an incredulous look – she's not an idiot, honestly, who does he think she is? Even thieves have a self-preservation instinct – "Rispah," she lies, using the name of a former Queen of the Rogue. "Rispah Cooper."

He gives her a searching look – does he know she's lying? Why isn't he calling her out on it? – but says, "Marek of Rocky Gorge. It's a pleasure."

A noble- she shouldn't be surprised, but she is. She nods slowly and slides a little farther away.

Marek – Lord? Duke? – sighs and flips her a coin. It nearly smacks her in the face before she remembers to reach for it.

She looks back at him and he waves at her. "Go on," he says, "I won't call the guards."

"Eiralys," she says quickly, and at his quizzical look, "I'm Eiralys." He opens his mouth to say something – does he know? Oh gods, he must, he looks young enough to have been around court back then – and no, she can't take it.

She runs.


	9. Clear Daybreak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing is ever easy, not for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Event: Drama Discus  
> Words: 737  
> Rating: PG

"The buildings here are beautiful," she says.

"Yes," he says, gazing up at the old turrets and walls of the castle. "This is your home," he says, and it is not a question but it is.

"This is Cavall," she says.

Eiralys does not take him into the castle. They walk around the fief, unmindful of the storm raging above them, and she does not seem to care about the curious stares of the villagers so he acts like he doesn't, either.

She leans up against a wooden fence, staring at a windmill spinning frantically in the gusts, and says in a voice so soft he barely catches it, "I don't belong here, do I?"

"No," he says. "You don't."

She turns to him, her eyes glittering in the low light and her face wet with rain (tears?). "I'm never coming back," she says in a low, cold voice like the layer of melting snow just above the grass.

Marek says nothing.

Looking back at the windmill, she shakes her head twice and water drips down her cold, reddening cheeks. "It's not as easy as you think it is."

"I never said I thought it was easy," he says.

She abruptly pulls away from the fence and slides under it. "Come on," she says when he only stares at her. He grumbles but slips through the fence as well.

He follows her up a small incline to the windmill. Her steps are lighter and quicker and when he gets to the top, she is already gripping the boards of the door and she pulls it open before he opens his mouth.

"Cathrea and I came here when it was all too much," she says, stepping into the dark space of the windmill's foundation.

"Cathrea's the priestess?" he says.

She nods and closes the door behind him, leaving only a sliver of light to illuminate the cramped space filled with tools, shelves, and a cot. "But back then, she was just my little sister."

"Back then?"

She sits on the cot and pulls her knees up to her chest. "People change and get older and people hurt you," she says bluntly. "And the gods know it wasn't all Cathrea's fault, or mine, or even Sunarine's, but after what happened to her, things changed."

He sits and puts his arm around her, letting her lean against him and grab his hand.

"I love y-".

SLAM.

"Da, I told you she'd be in here-" it's Margarry's voice. "Oh…" she trails off.

"What did I tell her about coming down here?" Wyldon says from outside. Eiralys tightens her grip on Marek's hand.

Margarry just stares at them in the brighter light. Eiralys stands and tugs Marek out of the windmill, gently pushing Margarry out of the way and coming face to face with her father just as the storm picks up.

He does a double take at seeing Marek behind her and his face hardens. "I cannot believe you would bring-" he gestures at Marek- "this to our castle."

Marek stiffens but it is Eiralys who lunges forward, arms behind her and teeth bared in a snarl. He wonders, somewhat fuzzily, just who the Rogue is here.

"You may not speak like that to me," she says in that same cold voice ( _I'm never coming back_ ) in a sharp contrast to her posture. "And you definitely may not speak like that to him." Her eyes rake Wyldon up and down before she glances back at Marek. "Just who do you think you are?"

Wyldon starts to speak, and Marek can tell that he will match Eiralys cold word for cold word, but Eiralys cuts him off.

"I do not really care," she says. "I only thought that it would be best to tell you in person that I am marrying Marek and not the haMinchi you selected." She rolls the last word off her tongue, and the bitter speech echoes uncomfortably in the rushing winds.

Wyldon's lips press tightly together and he stares at his eldest daughter.

"Very well," he says. "I wash my hands of it."

Eiralys looks at her expressionless father. "As you do," she says, and Marek sees the resemblance between them even more in that moment.

She turns and walks down the hill, and Marek follows. As they walk through the village, she does not wipe away the rain (tears?) from her face so he doesn't, either.


	10. Like Dust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eiralys just can't scream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Event: 1500 word dash  
> Words: 1500  
> Rating: M for strong implications of sexual assault and non-graphic violence, as well as a little bit of swearing.

Eiralys wants to be able to scream.

She wants to yell and shout and pull her hair out, but ladies don't do that. So she puts on a mocking smile and uses cutting words if she must. She's an example to Sunarine and Cathrea and little Margarry, and she makes her daddy proud.

She likes to find places in the village, little tucked away spots, and sometimes she sits there and stares into space (like a lazy little commoner, says that traitorous part of her brain) and hopes that someday she will be able to scream.

The villagers say nothing to Eiralys when they find her in odd places, and she says nothing to them, and years whirl past her on a velvet black horse and it's time to be married soon (much too soon).

There's a haMinch that Wyldon has selected for her, a bold knight with old eyes and older opinions. She thinks privately that he's fusty and much more suited to Cathrea than her, but in public she puts on that subtly mocking smile and behaves like a proper lady should.

Eiralys goes with two of her sisters to Corus on Eiralys' sixteenth birthday, and that's when Cathrea breaks and Sunarine falls. That is also when Eiralys meets Marek.

It's their second night in the city, staying at the Cavall townhouse. Cathrea and Sunarine are out shopping and Eiralys is napping when she hears a scream (and those aren't uncommon, not in Corus) but there's a clunk against the wall and Eiralys stumbles out the door.

And there's - there's a man there, and that's Cathrea, and Sunarine's nowhere to be seen - and Eiralys can't, she can't-

Someone drags the man off Cathrea and there's more screaming and the second man has drawn a dagger (and oh, this is fear) and Eiralys reaches blindly, silently for her sister. Cathrea screams and shakes in her arms, both of them sprawled on the ground without thought for dignity, and they wait.

At last it's over, and the second man stands above the motionless body of the first, both covered in blood. At first he does not meet Eiralys' eyes, or Cathrea's, which are hazed with tears and focused on the cobblestones of the street.

"My ladies," the man says, and Eiralys notices fuzzily that he is not young but still not as old as the haMinch she will marry. "Are you all right?"

Eiralys nods even as Cathrea screams again, and Eiralys feel a shiver wrack her sister's entire body. The man holds out his hand and helps Eiralys up. Cathrea clings to her, her shrieks fading into silent screams, and Eiralys does not know what to say or do or think or feel (and where, oh where, is Sunarine?)

"I'm Marek," the man says.

She stares at him. "Eiralys," she finally says with a numb tongue. "Have you seen my other sister, Sunarine?"

"Blonde, brown eyes, about yay tall?" He gestures and Eiralys nods frantically. "She and the girl here stumbled into my- a pub a while ago. I noticed that your sister-" he gestures to Cathrea this time- "was gone and so was a very… coarse… man. I thought it best to check up on it."

Eiralys stares at him again with volumes of thanks in her face, and shifts Cathrea - she's very heavy and Eiralys doesn't think she can do this on her own.

"Will you…" Eiralys, even now, has trouble asking for help, but Marek seems to know what she wants.

"I can carry her and help you get to your home, if you wish."

She's not sure if she can trust him (but she's Eiralys, after all, and she doesn't even trust herself) but she nods anyway and leads him, Cathrea in his arms, over to the Cavall townhouse.

Something indescribable crosses his face when he sees the Cavall coat of arms above the door, but he says nothing and helps her get Cathrea fairly calm before they set out to look for Sunarine.

"I can't believe this is happening," she says, not looking at the body in the street (anywhere else, anywhere) and focusing instead on Marek- who's actually quite handsome. She's trying not to scream or throw up or cry or do anything unladylike.

He has that same indescribable look, but this time he speaks. "I know, Eiralys." He gives her his jacket, good quality for a commoner, when she shivers.

They find Sunarine in the pub, just where Marek said she was.

She's very drunk and hanging upside down off of a table (and Eiralys has to remind herself that Sunarine's still a child, only fifteen, to keep from exploding with rage- why is Eiralys the only one who must act properly?). Marek points at her and Eiralys strides over, not bothering to walk daintily.

"Sunarine," she says in her most dangerous voice.

"Hey, Eir! Come to join the party?" Sunarine says. "Goody-" she mumbles the rest, but Eiralys gets the gist.

"Bitch," Eiralys says coldly, and she sees Marek start out of the corner of her eye. "You little bitch. Didn't I tell you to look after Cathrea? _Do you know what you've done?"_

Sunarine looks confused. "But she was just- she was just here." She scans the pub. "Cathrea's gone!"

Eiralys feels a tingle go down her spine and she tries to control the fire rising, rising up, but she cannot. "Sunarine," she says, "I'm aware of that."

"Who's this? Your new suitor?" Sunarine says, easily distracted. She gestures to Marek and Eiralys flushes with rage and embarrassment. Marek says nothing, letting her handle it.

"Sunarine, _enough_. Get off that table, get a hold on yourself, and we'll discuss anything else later."

Sunarine scowls but unwinds herself from her twisted position and stands. "Fine," she says. "Where's Cathrea, anyway?"

Eiralys looks away.

Marek, stopping his whispered conversation with a heavily hooded man, glances back to Eiralys. "Do you need any more help?"

She nods, flushing even deeper, and he helps her drag a now giggling Sunarine back to the house.

She sits on the steps once Sunarine has been put into bed and Cathrea has been checked up on. Marek joins her.

"Are you all right?" he asks.

She smiles humorlessly. "Why are you asking me? Cathrea's the one who was hurt."

"You have a lot to deal with, too," he says. "Don't downplay that pain."

Eiralys stretches back, the sharp edge of the step digging into her back. "I'm a lady," she says. "That's what ladies do."

"Scream," he says.

She gives him an incredulous look.

"Just scream. Let it all out."

"That's ridiculous," she sniffs. "People will hear- they'll think I'm crazy-"

"No, they'll think I'm torturing you," he says, and she can't tell if he's joking or not from his wry tone. "Just do it."

Rolling her eyes, she gives an experimental yelp. He scoffs.

"Is that the best you can do?"

Instead of yelling louder, she breaks down into tears and covers her eyes.

"Hey, hey," he says, touching her shoulder lightly. "You're okay, you're okay."

"I can't do this." Her words are cut apart by harsh inhales. "I want to go home, but home's not home and I don't belongand it's all a lie, Marek. I'm just a lie."

Though he seems uncomfortable, he puts another arm around her. And she thinks, as she cries for the first time she was a baby, that this whole day has been ridiculous. Now she's being consoled by a man she met when he killed someone else (yes, just a typical day for Eiralys).

But his arm is warm, and with her eyes covered it's dark. She feels for a moment like she's back at [home] Cavall, tucked inside a shed, hearing the rain (not her tears) trickle down the roof.

She pulls away from Marek abruptly and lets out an ear-piercing, throat-ripping scream.

He covers his ears but looks at her with that indescribable look (that can't be admiration, can it? Why would he admire her?).

Eiralys slumps against the step again, and takes in a deep breath.

"You are not a lie," he says, his voice much firmer than hers but rougher, too. "You are the truest person I have met in a very long time - although that's not saying much for my line of work - but you are the furthest thing from a lie that I can think of."

He pauses, pulling an arm back to scratch his head. "I've only just met you, but I can tell you that much."

She closes her eyes again, but it's getting very dark out so it doesn't make much difference.

"Thank you," she says. "I don't know what I would have done if you… if you hadn't helped me."

He brushes her hair back from her face. "You would've been fine. You're stronger than you think you are."

"The screaming hurt a bit, though." She rubs her throat and he laughs (maybe she will be okay).


End file.
